


As Men Strive For Right

by Purseplayer



Series: Soulmate!verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purseplayer/pseuds/Purseplayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world that allows no place for homosexuality, Blaine and Kurt are soulmates who were fortunate to find each other against the odds. But as they made their way to freedom in The Olde World something went wrong, and now Kurt finds himself safe in Blaine's home country - alone. What happened to Blaine, and can Kurt find a way to reunite them again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This House

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings will be given per chapter, but to begin with this story will contain minor violence, character death (not Kurt or Blaine,) and some sexual content that might be consider dubcon (again, not Kurt or Blaine.) 
> 
> Please make sure you've read "My Soul Can Reach" first, or this will make very little sense. Thank you for reading!

_“Blaine is missing.”_

The words swept through Kurt like a slow, burning freeze, numbing him as they went and leaving him utterly barren.  It was the most terrifying feeling in the world.

“We’re still looking, Kurt, we won’t give up!” Tina tried to reassure him, sounding not a little desperate.

He looked up at her, registering the pity on her pretty face but unable to bring himself to care.  “I’d like to be alone, please,” he said with as much politeness as he could muster.

“Kurt…”

“Tina, let’s give him some space,” Mike suggested, considering Kurt sadly and nodding once before placing a hand on the petite woman’s back and guiding her towards the door.

“Your dad…”

“You can send him up when he gets here.” 

As they left Kurt removed his glove, staring blankly at the name that was permanently etched into his palm and tracing the familiar letters with one finger.  He didn’t stir until long after the door clicked shut.

*******

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt still sat as if frozen in time.  He didn’t notice someone entering the room, but startled when a hand closed over his shoulder.  Kurt looked up to find Burt standing at his bedside.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, sinking gratefully into his father’s arms.

“Kurt!” Burt clutched him tightly.  “You had us so worried!”

“Us?”

“Me, Carole, Finn… all of Blaine’s friends…”

Kurt tensed at the mention of Blaine but quickly shook it off, pulling back from the embrace.  “Who are Carole and Finn?”

It was only then that Kurt realized they were not alone.  A woman stood in the doorway.  She looked to be about his father’s age, maybe a few years younger, with shoulder-length auburn hair and a concerned expression on her face.

“Carole,” his father said, gesturing to her.  She stepped forward and stopped at Burt’s side. 

“Hey, Honey,” she said, offering Kurt a sad smile as Burt’s arm wrapped around her waist. 

“She’s a nurse, can she take a look at you?”

Kurt nodded, eyes locked on his father’s as the woman—Carole—set about poking and prodding him, checking his pulse.  “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me?” he asked after a moment.

Carole and Burt exchanged a look that only served to confuse Kurt further before Burt finally spoke.  “With all that’s happened… maybe it’s not the best time, Kurt.  You— _we_ should focus on finding Blaine.”

“Dad,” Kurt said stubbornly, his eyes narrowing slightly at the older man.

But to both their surprise, it was Carole who caved.

“Honey,” she started, resting a hand gently on his arm to get his attention.  “Your father and I, well… we’ve bonded.”

Whatever Kurt had been expecting to hear, it was certainly not _that_.

“But… mom was your soulmate!”

“Yes, she was,” Burt said patiently.  “So is Carole.”

“I was a no name,” Carole explained, no hint of shame in her voice.  “I’ve had your father’s name for years now, but we only just found each other.  I guess you could say it was you that brought us together, sweetie.”  She patted Kurt’s arm, a hopeful smile on her face.  Kurt resisted the instinct to pull away.

“I know this is sudden, Kurt, but as they say here… you can’t fight the Source.  I will always love your mother, but I love Carole, too.  She’s made me very happy these past few days.”

Kurt merely nodded, unable to summon the emotional energy to fully process the situation.  “Congratulations,” he managed weakly.  “I’m sorry, it’s not you Carole, I just can’t…”

“That’s alright,” Carole said, compassion shining in her eyes.  “I understand.”

And Kurt knew that she did.

“Finn…” Kurt began, suddenly remembering the other name his father had mentioned.

“Is my son,” Carole supplied.  “He’d very much like to meet you, when you feel up to it.  And…” she paused, looking to Burt, “we’d like to help.  In any way we can.”

Kurt almost smiled.  Given an appropriate amount of time and better circumstances, he thought he might come to like Carole quite a lot.

*******

Carole left shortly after that, but Burt stayed behind with his son.  They didn’t speak, each lost to their own thoughts, but Kurt clutched at his father’s hand as though it were a lifeline.  Maybe right now it was.

“You can cry if you need to, Kurt,” Burt told him softly after what seemed like hours of morose silence.

Kurt shook his head mulishly.  “Why?  It won’t do any good.”

Burt sighed, shuffling closer in his chair to smooth back the hair from his son’s face.  “You should eat something.  We’ve kept you hydrated, but it’s been three days.”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt said hoarsely, barely responding to his father’s touch.  “I just want to sleep.”  _I just want Blaine._

“They’re going to find him,” Burt swore with forced bravado.  “We’re going to find him; I promise you Kurt.” 

“Of course we are,” Kurt said, forcing more confidence into his voice than he currently felt.  “It’s late.  You should go.”

“Are you sure?  Maybe I should stay with you; I could—”

“Dad,” Kurt cut him off.  “There’s nothing to be done at the moment.  I’ll speak to Mike in the morning, and we’re going to come up with a plan, and it’s going to work.  But right now you should go back to Carole.”

“If you need me…”

“I know.  Thank you, Dad.”  He squeezed his father’s hand, then released it, turning away and sinking under the covers as he listened to Burt’s footsteps patter to the door, fading as it softly swung closed.

*******

A knock at his door woke Kurt the next morning, and Mike didn’t wait for an answer before entering the tiny room, a neatly arranged breakfast tray in his hands.

“Breakfast, from Tina,” he explained, setting it down beside Kurt on the bed even though Kurt had yet to move or acknowledge his presence.  Mike took the chair, unfazed by his lack of response.  “You need to eat,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument, “and we need to talk.”

Kurt blinked, frowned but nodded, and sat up a little begrudgingly, reaching for the tray.  He would be of no use to Blaine dead.  “Thank you,” he said quietly, picking at some bacon.  “Any news on Blaine?  I’m feeling better today, so I should be able to help—”

“No, but that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Mike cut him off.  “I don’t know what’s happened to Blaine; we’re still working on that.  But I have my theories.  You probably aren’t going to like them.”

Kurt’s eyes fell closed as if to shut Mike out, but it was only a moment before he took a deep breath, sat a little straighter, and opened them to stare directly into Mike’s.  “I’m listening.”

“You probably already know why Blaine was in The New World and about his brother’s involvement in him getting caught?”

“I know enough.”

“Right…” Mike looked like he wanted to say more but was reconsidering, and when he continued, the subject change caught Kurt off guard.  “So I’m assuming Blaine told you a little about the barrier, how it works to keep us safe?”

“Of course.”

“Did you consider that maybe Blaine wasn’t able to get through the barrier?”

Kurt’s brow furrowed and his eyes darkened, anger welling up within him before he could stop it.  “Are you suggesting that Blaine had some sort of devious intent in bringing us here?  He would never keep something like that from me; he would never be capable of something so hateful; Blaine is the kindest—”

“Woah!” Mike held up a hand to stop him.  “I know that Blaine would never do anything to hurt you; we were best friends.  You don’t need to convince me that he’s a good person.  But that being said—and I mean no disrespect—you have no idea what Blaine is capable of.”

Kurt studied him for a moment, lips pressed tight to bite back another retort.  As much as it stung, he knew on some level that Mike was right.  “What did you mean then?” he asked finally, tone clipped but restrained.

Mike sighed, breaking eye contact for the first time to study his own hands.  “I would imagine, knowing what I know of Blaine, that he is feeling very angry and conflicted towards Cooper.  Probably far angrier than he’s admitted even to himself.”

“Angry enough, on some level, to want to hurt him,” Kurt supplied.

“I’m not saying that Blaine is prone to violence…”

“It’s okay.  I don’t want to think that, but you’re right.  You’ve known him a lot longer than I have.”  Kurt shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant.

“Hey, I may not have seen you two together, but I don’t have to to know that you mean more to Blaine than anything in the world.  He loved you long before he knew you.  Which is why it pains me to mention my other theory for Blaine’s absence…”

Kurt smiled at him feebly.  “Shoot.”

“Well… I think it’s possible that Blaine never intended to come across the barrier with you to begin with.”

Kurt gasped.  “You think he lied to me?”

“I think _that it’s possible_ that your safety meant more to him than honesty.  And I know that Blaine was very dedicated to our mission.  He may have had some unfinished business—”

“I can’t believe that,” Kurt interrupted.  “But regardless, that doesn’t really tell me what I want to know most.  Where is Blaine now?”

“Well, if he stayed behind intentionally he could be anywhere in The New World at the moment… but it would mean that he’s probably safe.”

_Small comfort_ , Kurt thought.  But then, small comforts were all he had.

“If he didn’t stay back on purpose, and the barrier kept him out… well, he’d have been knocked unconscious, just like you.  It took over a day for us to get over there to search, and we didn’t find him anywhere, which means…” he paused, looking pained.  “I’m sorry Kurt, but if that’s the case, the authorities over there probably caught him.  They would have gotten to him before we could.”

Kurt forced back the dread that was slowly consuming his body, forced out the words.   “What would they do to him?”

Mike reached out to take his hand, and Kurt didn’t even try to pull away.  “They don’t take kindly to second offenses, Kurt.  What he did was bad, but running away… there’s more than one reason there aren’t a lot of violent crimes in the world.  People don’t often begin with violent crimes and… the government doesn’t usually let it get that far.”

“No,” was all Kurt could say, shaking his head and yanking his hand away.  “I won’t—I can’t believe that.”

Mike leaned forward, his eyes boring into Kurt’s own, heavy with intent.  “Then don’t believe it.  Fight back with the rest of us.  The Resistance has been moving towards taking a bigger stand against the prejudice and hatred in The New World for a long time, and we all think this is the perfect opportunity.  With your blessing, we’d like to send the cavalry in to look for Blaine… and when we find him, to take a stand once and for all.”

“You don’t need my blessing,” Kurt said resolutely.  “I’m going with you.  But there’s something I want to do first.”  He hesitated, then added just as firmly, “I want to talk to Cooper.”

“Of course,” Mike said, his face darkening as Kurt spoke Cooper’s name.  “You’re still a little weak, but build up your strength today and I’ll take you tomorrow, first thing.  It will take us that long to prepare, at any rate.”

He stood and turned to go. 

“Mike…” Kurt called out to him.  He paused in the doorway.  “Thank you.  For everything.”

Mike nodded, looking back at him with a slight smile.  “Rest up now.”

When he was gone Kurt sat back, gathering his strength for a moment before turning back to his breakfast, forcing himself to take a real bite.  It was too early to feel hope, too much right now to feel anything but the bleakness of the lack of Blaine’s presence, the emptiness in this place that was his and the wrongness of being here alone.  But tomorrow was a new day and if there was nothing more he could expect from it, it at least held the promise of purpose.  Kurt Hummel had never been one to back down from a challenge.


	2. To Where You Are

The first thing that registered when the fog in Blaine’s mind began to lift was pain.  His head ached dully, but the worst pain was in his left leg, sharp like he was being stabbed with a knife.  He struggled to open his eyes.

The surface mere feet above his head was grey and looked soft.  It was familiar, somehow, though he couldn’t particularly place it.  He frowned, thinking hard even though thinking _hurt_.  He wanted to touch it but realized with a start that his arms were bound together.  Great.

It took a few moments, but eventually he was able to orient himself.  He was in a car, lying flat on his back in what must be the back seat.  Gathering his strength, he tried to sit up, abruptly falling back with a loud groan.

“Hey Henry!” a voice exclaimed from the front seat.  “Looks like he’s finally waking up!”

“Bout time.  They’re usually not out this long.  Then again, I’ve not seen many who haven’t gotten through before.”

 _Gotten through._ Blaine pondered the man’s words and soon it all came flooding back to him.  Leaving the prison, traveling with Kurt and Burt, crossing the barrier…  Had he not made it across?  Had Kurt not made it?

“Kurt…” he tried, hating the weakness of his own voice when he heard it.

He turned his head and saw a man peering back at him from between the seats, but his face was neither familiar nor kind.

“Who’s that, your boyfriend?” the man taunted him.  “I went to school with that kid; always did suspect he was a twink.”  He inclined his head towards Blaine’s hand, drawing Blaine’s attention to the fact that his palm was, indeed, exposed.  They must have removed the glove that covered Kurt’s name. 

Blaine felt anger welling up inside of him at the man’s gall but forced it down.  He couldn’t do anything to defend himself in his present situation, anyways, and right now he needed information. 

“Where is he,” he all but growled.

The man laughed.  “Don’t know, don’t care.  Maybe he got lucky and was able to cross.  We only found you, and you’d been out for at least a day when we did, from the looks of it.  Maybe someone else picked him up, or maybe he up and left you.”

 _Kurt would never leave me_ , Blaine thought.  He must have crossed then, and he was safe.  But why didn’t Blaine himself make it? 

He had an idea, but it would do no good to dwell on it now.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Where all homos go,” the man said casually, still sneering at him.  “To see Satan!”

“Jeez, lay off the kid, would you David?  Whether he’s _that kind_ or not, he’s about to suffer enough!”

Although Blaine was slightly reassured by the fact that at least the other man (Henry?) didn’t seem to have it in for him, “suffer” did not sound promising at all.

“I only speak the truth,” David responded.  “We may have orders to bring him in alive, but I’ve known her for years, and I know what Santana does to her prisoners.”  He turned back to Blaine.  “You better be of use to her, faggot, or you won’t be alive for very long!”

Blaine closed his eyes, not wanting to look at this “David” or even worse, allow him to see Blaine’s fear.  “How far?”

“We’re about an hour out,” Henry answered. 

“Better enjoy the comfort while it lasts,” David added.

Blaine shut them out, in his mind conjuring an image of Kurt—hopefully safe now in The Olde World—and willed himself to sleep.

*******

A loud bang startled Blaine awake, but he had little time to react before he was yanked forcefully from the car.  He stumbled, leaning against the man (David, his mind supplied) who currently had his arms in a vice grip without meaning to.  Blaine looked around, startled by the sight that greeted him.  They had pulled into a cobblestone driveway framed by well-tended greenery; in front of him was a great stone house.  If Blaine didn’t know better, he’d be tempted to call it a castle—massive structures he remembered from an old textbook he’d read at Dalton.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t given much time to stare before he was jerked along, the guard clearly unconcerned about his injured leg.  Blaine couldn’t decide which was worse: putting weight on it or letting David support him.  Ultimately, the guard’s speed didn’t leave him much of a choice.

They bypassed the front door, instead moving around the side of the building to a smaller entrance that was nearly concealed.  David pushed through it easily, throwing Blaine unceremoniously to the ground the moment they were inside.  Blaine couldn’t control his groan of pain, noticing at once that this entire room was stone too, the press of the floor unforgiving. 

Henry came in behind them and shot Blaine a look that was almost pitying, but said nothing.

“You’ll wait here,” David ordered, already moving through to a second door on the opposite side of the large room.  “I wouldn’t try anything.”

As if he could.

The wait was long enough for Blaine to get lost in his thoughts, but not nearly as long as he expected it to be.  He did his best to sit up straighter when someone barged into the room, tried fruitlessly to clear his mind of images of Kurt and blink away the tears he hadn’t been able to stop. 

To his surprise his visitor was a woman, dressed casually and carrying a small first aid kit.  She knelt beside him, looking him over with exaggerated sympathy.

“My name’s Terri,” she said, the brightness of her voice startling him a little.  “I came to see if you’re hurt.”

Blaine scoffed.  “What do they care?  I was told I’m going to be tortured.”

“It is possible,” Terri conceded, opening the kit before moving to check his injuries.  Blaine flinched away, but she was persistent.  “Ms. Lopez likes her prisoners to be at their best when she meets them, either way.”

“How kind of her.”

Terri seemed unfazed by his sarcasm and met his eyes.  “She isn’t often kind, and she can be cruel, but she’s also unpredictable.  It’s hard to say what she’ll do with you, but it might help if you tell me why you’re here.”

Blaine relaxed a little, starting to get a read on this woman.  She was clearly a gossip, and that could prove useful.  “I broke out of prison, tried to escape through the barrier.”  He paused, considering, then added, “with my soulmate and his father.”

It was almost comical, the way Terri’s eyes widened and her surprised gasp.  But she recovered quickly.  “I’ve never met someone like you.  At least, not someone who’s not been rehabilitated.  Is that what you were in jail for?”

“There is that, but my main offense was treason.  I guess now that I’ve run I’m a repeat offender.”

“Oh.”  For whatever reason, Terri seemed less interested in this.  But she leaned closer to him, almost conspiratorially.  “Santana’s been rehabilitated, you know.  They say that’s why she’s such a good leader.”

 _A good thing to know_ , Blaine thought, but he had no idea what to do with the information.

Noting his lack of response, Terri continued.  “I wouldn’t expect that to make her any more compassionate towards you, though.  There,” Terri stood, having finished patching up some of his more minor injuries.  “I think your leg might be broken, but not badly.  I’m not a doctor.”

“Will someone be in soon?”

Terri shrugged.  “Santana does what she wants; I don’t know about anyone else.”  She studied him for a long moment.  “She doesn’t usually decide about people the first night, so that’s one more night for you.  You’ll probably be moved to a cell.  Try to find a way to be useful to her.”

“Thank you, but I have no desire to sell myself out to a bigoted, New-World-governmentallackey.”  He held his chin high, meeting her gaze.

She smiled at him sadly.  “You might if it means seeing your man again someday.”

Blaine watched as she quietly left the room, her words playing on inside his head.

Terri was right: Blaine wasn’t a quitter.  He was Kurt Hummel’s soulmate, a strong and proud member of the Resistance, and those were things worth fighting for.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, willing the cold, hard stone surrounding him to fade into the comforting warmth of his lover’s embrace.

“I swear, Kurt, I’ll find a way back to you,” he whispered into the darkness, hoping that somehow, wherever he was, his soulmate knew that Blaine would never give him up.

*******

When Blaine woke again it was to the sharp sound of a woman’s voice and the grating click of her heels. 

“Well well well… and how is my newest captive?  Eagerly awaiting my visit, I’m sure.”

Blaine opened his eyes slowly, already knowing whose image would greet him.  This could only be Santana.

The woman standing before him wasn’t terribly tall.  She was beautiful, her figure the common man’s bedroom fantasy—Blaine could tell that even as a gay man, especially considering her outfit did little to hide it.  Her grin was lecherous, a fitting match for the maniacal glint in her dark eyes.  Shiny black hair fell in waves down her back.  Blaine didn’t have to guess why her nickname was Satan.  She looked the textbook definition of evil.

And now she was looming closer, reaching out to take a stray curl between her fingers.  Blaine’s first instinct was to swat her hand away, but no, his arms were still bound.

“You certainly are a pretty one,” Santana was saying.  “Want to tell me your story?”

Blaine cleared his throat, taking a moment to collect himself.  “I’m sorry,” he finally spoke with as much coldness as he could muster, fixing her with an icy glare.  “I’m not accustomed to show and tell with strangers, especially those who’ve taken me prisoner.”

Her face darkened at this, but quickly recovered, returning to what was clearly her trademark smirk.

“No need to stay strangers, sweetie.  My name’s Santana.  Yours is Blaine.  See, we already know each other!”

Blaine winced at the sound of his name from her lips.  “I’ll make you a deal.  You explain to me—in full—who you are, why I’m here, and what you plan to do with me… and I _might_ decide to talk.”

Santana scoffed.  “Surely you know you’re in no place right now to be bargaining.  But I like your spunk, so I might be willing to throw you a _bone_ ,” she chuckled at this last word, clearly enjoying her own attempt at a joke.  At least it gave Blaine some idea of how much she already knew about him.  “My full name is Santana Lopez, and I’m the Head of Security in this country.  You’re here because you were stupid enough to commit treason and then had the impudence to think we’d let you run away.  As to what will happen to you here… well, that’s pretty open-ended at the moment.”

Blaine met her eyes.  “And what do you want to know?”

Santana’s smile widened.  “You were in prison under Sue Sylvester, right?  She’s a good one, Sue—my mentor, in fact—but what she really loves is to win, which means she won’t even try if she thinks a case is too difficult, a criminal too stubborn.  But I heard your brother Cooper was real easy to crack.”

She paused, watching Blaine’s face tense.  He fought to keep his expression blank, but wasn’t quick enough. 

“Hit a nerve there, did I?  Look, I know why you got arrested.  Big brother sold you out to save his own ass, didn’t he?  Betraying you and your cause.  I’ve heard about your little Olde World rebel group, willing to risk so many years of peace and safety over there to screw our system over here.  What I fail to understand is _why_?  If you’re all so safe and happy over there, then what sense is there behind your almighty, holy-roller mission?”

Blaine met her eyes, projecting his own determination as much as he could.  He remained patiently silent while Santana stared him down.

“You know I’ve got enough on you to kill you, if you don’t make it worth my while to keep you alive.  Not that someone in my position really needs any reason at all.  Lord knows it wouldn’t hurt the world any to take out one more buttboy with a hideous fro, as little risk as you are to the gene pool.  So tell me, what are you and your merry band of cronies planning?”

Blaine smiled crookedly—an equal match for her expression, he thought to himself—and leaned forward, internally praying he had calculated this right.  “Why don’t you tell me, _Santana_ , exactly what it is that made you so bitter?  Surely your sacred government didn’t screw with your head?  Did Mommy and Daddy not love you enough to spare you?”

It was slight, but Blaine’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he saw her own darken—the barest hint of anger, boiling close to the surface.  Just as quickly, she slammed the lid. 

“The only thing this _government_ ever did for me was grant me the power of life and death over pathetic, whimpering little homos like you.”  Her grin returned, more conniving than ever.  “Mommy and Daddy couldn’t be more proud.”

In an instant, Santana had spun around to face David, who was lurking in the corner of the room watching with ill-concealed interest.  Blaine hadn’t even noticed him.  “He’s useless,” she dead-panned.  “Go ahead and take care of him.”

Blaine’s stomach twisted sickly as David’s eyes lit up and he slowly began to advance, reminding Blaine of nothing so much as a predator stalking his prey.  But this wasn’t the wild, and Blaine was bound and broken; he would have no chance to run away.  He closed his eyes, trying to picture Kurt’s face, his beautiful body on the one night they had had together.  He raised his hands—still bound—to cover his face…

“Wait!”  Santana’s voice barely registered in his mind.  He opened his eyes, lowering his arms and considering her with the barest hint of hope.  His eyes flickered to David, pleased to see that the guard looked royally pissed.

“I’ve changed my mind; this one’s too pretty to kill.”  She came closer again and seemed to be examining him, looking over his hands and then his face.  Blaine tried not to flinch, knowing this might be his salvation and, eventually, his way back to Kurt. 

Santana’s eyes met his, and Blaine was perplexed by what he saw in them—something entirely different than the cold but amused disdain they had contained throughout most of their encounter.  But whatever had changed, it was impossible to read.

She backed off, addressing a second man in the room.  “Sandy, set him up with a room in the west wing.  Get him some food and a doctor.  I want him ready for me by tonight.”

The man, who was dressed more strangely than anybody Blaine had ever encountered, nodded.  “Yes mistress,” he said with too much complacency, shooting Blaine a glance that he could only describe as _creepy_.

His attention focused on Sandy leaving the room, Blaine startled when Santana sat in his lap, facing him in a straddle, and leaned close to his ear.  “Try to escape and I will cut you, no matter who your soulmate is.” 

With those words she was gone, moving away from him just as quickly as she had come and leaving Blaine more confused—and more hopeful—than ever.


	3. The Promise

Kurt mercifully spent much of the rest of the day alone, save for another visit from his father.  He slept a lot and ate every bite of every meal, wanting to be at full strength as soon as possible.  He’d need it to confront Cooper and to prepare himself to join the Resistance. 

After having some time to think about it, he found it rather odd that Blaine’s friends had been content to leave him in prison the first time around, but now seemed concerned enough to rally their troops to go after him.  What about the situation, from their perspective, had changed?  Surely it wasn’t merely Kurt himself—that Blaine now had a soulmate, someone to make his life _matter_.  That Kurt’s life, too, now mattered in a way it never had before.  He mentally added the question to his growing list of things to ask Mike.

When Mike appeared to fetch him the next day, however, he seemed oddly tense, and Kurt decided to save his questions for later.  They walked the short distance to Mike’s car in near silence, save for his brief inquiry as to how Kurt was feeling. 

Eventually, though, Kurt’s anxiety became too much to bear, and he gave in to his curiosity.

“How far is it, to Cooper’s place?”

Mike’s hands tightened around the wheel.  “It’s on the edge of town, but not too far.  Maybe half an hour.  He used to live closer, before…”

“Before?”

“Before he betrayed Blaine.  As you can imagine, we were all rather _disgusted_ by what he’d done.  Needless to say, we no longer keep in touch.”

“What’s his story?” Kurt had been wondering about it for a while, but it seemed such an upsetting topic that he hadn’t pushed Blaine for any details.

Mike shook his head.  “You’ll have to ask him that.  None of us were willing to really hear him out… not after his initial confession that he’d let Blaine go to jail.”  He paused for a moment, then added, “He has a soulmate.  Molli, I think her name is.  She teaches at the primary school with Tina.  Nice enough woman.  From what Tina tells me they’re friendly, but she’s never tried to mention Cooper.  It’s a bit of a mystery.”

“Well,” Kurt said, straightening up in the passenger seat, chin lifting a little in determination.  “He’s going to explain himself to me.  I think I deserve the full story.”

Mike had nothing to say to that, and their silence resumed for the remainder of the ride.

After a short time, Mike pulled up in front of a small but charming brick house.  It appeared almost too homey to belong to the man Kurt was going to see, with a loopy, cheerful “Welcome” sign posted on the front door and baskets of wildflowers hanging from the roof of the tiny porch and sitting in the windows.  _Must be Molli’s influence_ , Kurt thought to himself, more curious now than ever about the people he was about to meet.  He didn’t hesitate, pushing open his door the moment the car stopped and climbing up the little set of stone steps, Mike trailing hesitantly behind him.

There was no doorbell, in its place a more old-fashioned knocker, and Kurt reached for it immediately before pausing, looking back at Mike. 

“It’s the middle of the day, are you sure they’ll be home?”

Mike gestured towards the car parked in front of his and shrugged.  “It’s Saturday, they should be.”

Kurt nodded and, turning back to the knocker, slammed it neatly three times.

After a short wait the door swung open to reveal a pretty woman with dark hair and bright green eyes.  She offered Kurt, and then Mike, a curious smile.  “Yes?  How can I help you?”

Kurt swallowed thickly, briefly glancing at Mike for guidance.  Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be offering any.  “Hello, umm… my name is Kurt Hummel.  I was hoping to speak with Cooper Anderson?”

The woman frowned as if confused by something, turning back into the house.  “Coop!” she called out.  Almost immediately a handsome man appeared, flashing her a dazzling smile and kissing her briefly before turning his attention to their guests.  “Mike,” his face fell when he saw the Asian man.  “What…?”

“Dear, this is Kurt Hummel,” Molli told him softly, and Cooper’s blue eyes landed on his, his mouth opening in an actual “O” of surprise for before falling closed.

“Kurt,” he breathed, stepping forward and then stopping himself.  “I don’t understand…”

“Neither do I,” Kurt said a little coldly, finally finding his voice.  “But I’d like to.”

“Of course,” Cooper said, briefly bowing his head before looking back up at him.  “Please, come in.  Molli,” he said, turning to his mate.  “Could you please fix some tea?”  He glanced back to Kurt, “or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea is fine.”

Molli nodded and disappeared into the house, trailing a comforting hand along Cooper’s arm as she passed.

“Right,” Cooper considered Kurt again.  “Follow me.”

Kurt moved to do so, then paused and turned back to Mike.

“I’ll wait in the car,” he said stiffly.

Kurt nodded and followed reluctantly after Cooper, soon finding himself seated on an overstuffed couch in a cozy living room.

“So, what would you like to know first?” Cooper asked, settling himself into an armchair to the right of Kurt.

Kurt’s head buzzed with a million and one questions, but they all boiled down to one.  He glanced around the room for a moment without really seeing it before finally considering the man beside him, the man who looked nothing at all like Blaine but had apparently broken his heart and left him to rot. 

When he met Cooper’s eyes, he could feel his own projecting every bit of his resentment.  “I just want to know why.”

“Blaine and I… I don’t know how much he told you, Kurt, but what we did was dangerous.  We were given tips from anonymous sources to check out certain people that might be sympathetic, and our job was to approach them and feel out where they stood.  Delicate work, pushing little by little, until you either won yourself an ally or you got the hell out of there as fast as you could.

“We’d received a tip-off about the Smiths—Miranda and Thomas—and so we went to their house one evening.  I don’t remember what our cover story was, but they let us in, no problem.  Things were going well, or so we thought.  We had just decided to go in for the kill, reveal ourselves, our real names and… why we were there.”

Cooper paused as Molli entered the room, placing a steaming cup of tea in front of Kurt with a gentle smile and handing one to Cooper, kissing his cheek before leaving the room.

Both men took a long sip, and Cooper continued.  “As soon as the words left our mouths, it all went to hell.  It was a trap, you see, and I don’t know how but they had people on us, just like that.  We were nearly out the door when there she was.”  Cooper paused, closing his eyes as if lost in the memory.  “She was so beautiful, standing on the stairs looking frantic.  Screaming out my name—screaming out hers.  I hesitated just a moment too long, and they got us.

“You have to understand the position I was in, Kurt, and how difficult it was.  Now that I had found her, I couldn’t leave her there for years with such terrible people.  I knew her parents wouldn’t react well to learning who I was.”

“So you sold out your own brother.”  Kurt’s voice was cold and bitter, unforgiving.

Cooper winced.  “I still regret it every day, wonder if there was a better way… but it was the only way I could think of at the time.  So I fed them some story—a watered-down version of the truth—and led them to believe that Blaine was the one in charge.  I knew that he wouldn’t give anything away; he’s too good for that.  It worked.  They let me go.  I went back to the Smith’s house the next day, snuck in and got Molli, and we got out, came back here.  Blaine went to prison.”

“And you just left him there?” Kurt all but screamed.  “You never tried to go back and get him out?”

Cooper hung his head.  “It was too dangerous.  I’m brave enough to risk myself, but I couldn’t risk her.”

“He doesn’t even know why you did it,” Kurt said incredulously, struggling to stay calm.

“No,” Cooper answered honestly.  He looked up, met Kurt’s eyes.  “He’d have done the same for you.”

Kurt broke the gaze in favor of studying his own hands, uncertain as to what to say next.

“So…” Cooper started, sounding more hesitant than he had yet.  “I know I have no right to ask, but about Blaine… you speak as if you’ve met.  Why didn’t he come here himself?”

Kurt sighed, forcing himself to look up again, resolutely setting his face.  “I suppose I can tell you the whole story, since you can’t really hurt him now…“ Cooper winced again, and Kurt couldn’t even bring himself to feel ashamed of the tingle of satisfaction he got from his reaction to the barb.  “Blaine and I met when I took a job at the prison he was in.  We managed to carry on a relationship in secret, and as soon as we could arrange it, he ran.  We were going to come here together, but…” he trailed off as he felt the tears beginning to build in his eyes and furiously tried to blink them away.  “He didn’t make it across.  That’s all we know.”

Cooper gasped and reached out as if to touch him, concern etched on his face, but seemed to think better of it and sat back.  “I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt scoffed.  “I can’t see why you would be.  At least this time it isn’t your fault.”

“No,” Cooper shook his head.  “But it is more dangerous for him, surely they’ve told you that?”

Kurt shuddered at the reminder, but nodded.

“So I guess the real question is… what are we going to do about it?”

“We?” Kurt was legitimately taken aback.

It was Cooper’s turn to sigh, though in the back of Kurt’s mind he noted that he did so a little over-dramatically.  “If you’ll let me, Kurt, I want to help.  I’ve spent so long hating myself for what I did.  I can’t… no, I _won’t_ let him down again.”

This time when their eyes met, Kurt took the opportunity to study the other man’s—searching within them for what, he wasn’t sure. 

After a long while he nodded once before looking away.  The Resistance was going to need all the help they could get, and Cooper was already trained.  As for forgiveness—well, that would be Blaine’s to give or to leave.

*******

After Kurt finished with Cooper, Mike took him on a tour of Dalton school, where a meeting was later being held for the Resistance to plan their big move.  Kurt was nervous at the prospect of meeting so many new people, but Mike informed him that they weren't as large of a group as Kurt had anticipated—only fifty or so members, and only thirty of those would be leaving on the mission.  The school also served as an excellent distraction from Kurt’s growing anxiety.  It was grand in a glamorous sort of way that hinted of eras passed.  Unfortunately, his mind constantly conjured up images of Blaine, smiling and laughing and learning with friends throughout the beautiful halls, and it only served to deepen his sadness.  
  
Just before the meeting, Kurt remembered his earlier question for Mike.  To his surprise, the taller man looked a little sheepish when asked why, exactly, going after Blaine was so important this time when they hadn’t bothered before.  
  
"Well, to be honest, it's really more of the excuse we've been looking for to make our move.  Elections are coming up in the New World, and we've got a few candidates there that are leaning towards our side, though none are very powerful.  What we really need is a big gun, so to speak… a shoe-in that the people already love who is willing to back our cause.  There are a couple of people we're working on, so if we can convince one of them, that's for the best.  But regardless of how solid we are politically, many of the people aren’t going to like what our candidates have to say.  None of us want to see it come to violence, Kurt, but if does, we’re prepared to make a stand.  This practice of Rehabilitation, this prejudice… it’s simply gone on too long.”

Kurt was impressed—and surprised—by how sincere Mike was, how passionate he seemed to be about the cause.  Then again, he didn’t know Mike well, but being a member of the Resistance in and of itself should have said a lot about his character.  He was seeing more and more that being a part of this group was no small sacrifice.  
  
"But also, Kurt, a lot of us here really care about Blaine,” Mike continued.  “We were his friends, and he was one of our best men.  It was one thing to know that he was safe in prison, however unpleasant that circumstance may be.  But wherever he is now, whatever's going on… well, the unknown is not a good thing."  
  
Kurt nodded, having reluctantly come to accept the unfortunate state of affairs for what it was.

“Blaine and I were roommates in college, and when Cooper talked him into joining, I went too.  Did he tell you that?”  Mike looked wistful and a bit uncomfortable, as if this were more than he’d been planning to say, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Not wanting to discourage Mike from sharing, Kurt quietly shook his head in response.

“He was my best friend there, and he and Tina got pretty close too.  He was my best man at our bonding ceremony.  When the two of us dropped out of school to join, he lived with us for a few months, until he and Cooper got situated.”

Mike fell silent, but Kurt continued to watch him expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I don’t know where I’m going with this.  I’m not very good with words, but I guess I just want you to know that Blaine means something to us here, Kurt.  Especially to me.  We won’t let him go without a fight.”

Kurt reached out to tentatively squeeze the Mike’s shoulder.  “Thank you,” he said sincerely, meeting his eyes.

Mike nodded.  Moments later, the meeting was called to order.

The meeting was very informative, but at its conclusion less was set in stone than Kurt would have preferred.  Apparently, the Resistance had a safe house they operated from in The New World—huge and only recently established—where members would be staying.  Getting everyone there seemed to be the primary problem.  They had decided to leave in small groups, and Kurt would be going the next day with the first group.  More than one member was unhappy with this because Kurt was untrained, but fortunately the majority were firmly on his side.  Mike would be going with him, along with Finn (the stepbrother Kurt had yet to meet and was surprised to learn was also a member of the Resistance,) a girl named Sugar who Kurt secretly thought didn’t look particularly fierce, and Sam, a Son of the Source.  He wasn’t in attendance, and Kurt wasn’t sure what a Son of the Source was, but apparently he would lend them additional protection and ease their way across the barrier.

At Kurt’s insistence, Cooper would be included in a later group.  Despite their tentative truce, Kurt was grateful they wouldn’t be forced into each other’s company any more than absolutely necessary.

Kurt still felt a little baffled as to _how_ they planned to go about rescuing Blaine, but if these people felt it prudent to iron out the details once they got there, he was determined to do his best to trust them.  He didn’t exactly have a slew of promising options.

He was slowly forgetting his troubles in a rather enjoyable if confusing conversation with Sugar about her past mishaps with the Resistance (stories that were doing very little to boost his confidence in her, but she seemed not to notice,) when strong hands suddenly clasped the back of his shoulders and spun him around at a dizzying speed.

Alarmed, Kurt looked up… and up… into a smiling, unfamiliar face.  “Hey dude!” the man proclaimed excitedly, still clutching tight to Kurt’s shoulders.  “I hear we’re bros now!”

Kurt blinked.  “You must be Finn…”

“Oh yeah, sorry, Finn Hudson.”  He finally, hastily, let go, jarring Kurt forward, and stuck out his hand.  Kurt shook it politely.

“Kurt Hummel, it’s lovely to meet you,” he offered.

“I’ve never had a brother before!” Finn declared, sticking his hands into his pockets.  “Or a dad, but Burt’s pretty cool.  I’m glad they found each other.”

“Yeah,” was all Kurt could say, still trying to process Finn’s exuberance.

Finally taking a moment to study Kurt’s face, Finn’s own soon fell.   “Hey, I’m really sorry about Blaine and all.  I didn’t really know him because I didn’t join until after he was… gone… but I’ve heard stories, and he sounds like a really cool dude.  I’m glad I can help you find him.”

Kurt relaxed a little at Finn’s sincerity, and he managed a small smile for the taller man.  “Thanks, I appreciate your concern.  I’m sorry if I’m not at my best right now, but once all this is over,” he waved his hand towards the room, “I’m sure I’ll really enjoy having you as a brother.”

Finn’s smile returned as Mike made his way over to them, opening his mouth to speak when banging at the door startled all three men—in fact, the entire room—and Kurt looked over to find a man who appeared to be around his own age striding through the doorway.

His presence was striking, to say the least, but Kurt decided immediately that he didn’t like him.  He was handsome enough—tall, well-dressed, stylish hair—but his face was set with a smirking arrogance that made Kurt’s stomach turn.

“Sebastian,” Mike said, moving towards him but stopping short of a full approach.  “You’re back.”

“Yes,” Sebastian grinned cockily, “with news.”

“Please then, enlighten us,” Wes, a friend of Blaine’s from Dalton who now held a leadership role in the Resistance, stepped forward from the back of the room.  Kurt recalled having a pleasant conversation with him earlier, and now felt some satisfaction at hearing the distaste in Wes’s voice and reading it on his face as he addressed ‘Sebastian’.  Apparently they shared in good judgment.

“Blaine is alive,” Sebastian informed the room proudly.  “And I know where he is.”


	4. Dirty Little Secret (Interlude 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Dub-con, homophobic slurs.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER MAY BE SKIPPED without harming your understanding of the overall story.

_Two days prior…_

Sebastian Smythe sat at the far end of the noisy bar, watching the crowd and taking a small sip of the drink he’d been nursing for over an hour.  Most people assumed that spy work was exciting.  It had certainly sounded exciting when, fresh out of school, he’d signed up.  The reality was much duller.  
  
He’d been quite miffed, to say the least, when he’d returned to The Olde World after a month long mission only to be sent back out again immediately.  It seemed a certain somebody had managed to run from prison, but somehow failed to properly execute their escape.  Just like Anderson too—always stirring up trouble.  Sebastian had spent years trying to lay him, damned little tease, and Blaine had resisted him at every turn.  

And now he was MIA.  
  
The opportunity to chase Anderson’s tail would have thrilled Sebastian to no end were it not for the man’s recent change in relationship status.  Apparently, Blaine had managed to meet his soulmate, and in prison no less.  Hummel, he thought the name was.  Useless bitch, still holed up in bed while Sebastian was sent off to track down his puppy.  Now he had even less chance of laying Anderson’s fine ass.  He had less chance of laying anyone’s ass, stuck in The New World where it wasn’t safe.  His eyes scanned the room, taking in the bar’s varied patrons.  Not that any of these people were worthy of his attentions.  
  
He took another long drag from the bottle in his hand, finally finishing it off, and was about to call it a night when a couple of government lapdogs caught his eye.  One of them—a tall, burly man about his age—looked vaguely familiar to him.  Sebastian thought hard, his mind in overdrive for a minute until he placed the man.  The uniform, the distinct patches sewn onto his jacket: this man worked for the Head of Security.  
  
“… just about to beat the little shit up, when she changes her mind!  Now she’s got the faggot put up in a fancy room like some kind of prince!”  
  
“Maybe she thinks he’ll be worth something,” the beefy black man next to him said more calmly.  
  
“Naw,” burly answered, taking a swig of his beer.  “He’s useless, Azimio.  It’s gotta be something else.”  His words were slurring a little, and Sebastian could see the sweat beading on his forehead from several feet away.  
  
“Could be she wants him for a good fuck,” his friend tried to reason.  
  
“I know her type; I went to school with her.  She’ll do almost anyone, really, but Anderson’s too scrawny.   And she hates curly hair.”  
  
Sebastian’s eyebrows lifted marginally upon hearing the name, and he leaned forward in his seat.  
  
“I dunno, Dave.  You’ll just have to let it go I guess.  It’s not like it used to be before you got promoted; you gotta keep it clean now.”

“I know that,” Dave growled back.  “It doesn’t keep me from wanting to punch his stupid, smirky face in!”  He slammed his bottle down on the counter, the sound making Sebastian jump—he’d expected it to shatter.

“Barkeep!” Dave called.  He yelled a few more times before a woman finally moseyed over, scowling at him and crossing her arms expectedly.  “I’ll have another beer,” he told her, not bothering to look her in the eye.  
  
“No way, Karofsky, you’re already too far gone.”  She turned to Azimio, raising an eyebrow.  “Be a good friend, now, take this one home.”  With those words she stormed away, ignoring Dave’s angry shouts after her.  
  
Sebastian sat frozen in his seat, hardly able to believe what he’d just heard.  There was no way.  
  
Karofsky was standing now, Sebastian’s eyes following him in a daze, watching as he pulled on his jacket and hastily began to cut through the crowd.  
  
“Where are you going?” Azimio demanded, standing and grabbing his friend by the arm.  
  
Dave shoved him off.  “To take a piss,” he ground out.  
  
Sebastian shook himself out of his stupor and got up to follow, mentally gathering himself as he went.  He soon lost Dave, but it mattered little: he’d been here before and knew where the bathroom was.  
  
He swung through the door without much thought.  Dave was standing at a urinal, finishing up from the looks of it, and Sebastian was pleased to see that he’d caught him alone.  His relief faded, however, when Dave turned to look at him, face full of the type of fury that most can only manage when truly drunk.  
  
“What the fuck are you looking at?” he sneered, eyes roving over Sebastian’s body.  The expression in them changed momentarily—a flash of shock and something else Sebastian strongly suspected might be interest—before he resumed his look of rage.  
  
Sebastian leaned further back against the doorframe, willing his trademark smirk to fall like a mask over his face.  “Nothing,” he answered nonchalantly.  “You’re really not much to look at.”  
  
Dave’s expression darkened impossibly further.  “Don’t bullshit me.  You’re some type of creep, aren’t you?   I’ll have you know I work for the government.  Stare at me like some kind of fucking homo, and I’ll arrest you for suspicious behavior.”

  
“Is that right?” Sebastian said, offering up a cocky smile.  “Maybe you should arrest yourself, then, because if the look on your face a moment ago was any indication, I’d say you liked it.”  
  
Dave paused for a minute, color rising to his cheeks that looked suspiciously like a blush.  Then, before Sebastian could fully register it, he was advancing, his glare right in Sebastian’s face and his arms like pillars on either side of his head.  
  
“I’m not a fucking faggot!” he spit out, removing one arm to curl it into a fist.  
  
Sebastian put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Hey, I don’t judge!  You don’t look the type, but it’s okay if you prefer receiving to giving…”  
  
Dave let out a growl of frustration and pulled back, swinging his arm as if he were about to land a blow.  Sebastian cringed and closed his eyes, almost regretting his words.  He talked a great game, yeah, but he hated to get his face messed up.  
  
The lips that were suddenly, frantically attacking his own came as a great surprise.

He decidedly didn’t like David Karofsky—this crass, sloppy hulk of a man before him—and he most certainly didn’t find him attractive.  Burly bear-cub types weren’t exactly his thing, because Sebastian Smythe had more class than that and could do much better for himself.  And he had, many times.  So why, exactly, he found himself sinking into this kiss, returning it… well, that was an even greater mystery.

Dave had him trapped against the wall, practically burying Sebastian under his much larger frame, pushing his hips eagerly, harshly into Sebastian’s own.  Sebastian’s hand crept down, forcing itself unbidden between their bodies to find and stroke Dave’s hardness.

Realizing what he had done a few moments later, he turned his head to the side, sucking in air as Dave’s lips moved to his neck and trying desperately to wrap his mind around the situation, to regain some kind of control or at the very least, equilibrium.

Of course, the best way Sebastian Smythe knew to control any man was with his dick.  It was a decision that had nothing to do with lust, he told himself firmly.

Smirking a little, he felt around with his hand until he came upon Dave’s zipper.  It wasn’t long before his hand found its way inside, weaving through layers to wrap solidly around slick, hot, _hard_ flesh.

“Is that good,” he whispered a little mockingly into Dave’s ear as he slowly worked him up and down.

Dave grunted in response.  He had stopped slobbering on Sebastian’s neck and was now merely panting against it.

Chuckling a little, Sebastian made use of every trick he knew to bring Dave as close as possible, as quickly as possible.

Then he stopped.

Dave whined—actually _whined_ —and immediately moved to rut up against him once more, but Sebastian was having none of it.  He wriggled a little and stepped to the side, watching with amusement as Dave tried to chase him with his hips, then slumped against the wall in frustration.

Calmly walking to the door, Sebastian checked to make sure it was locked.  Assured that it was, he spun back around to consider Dave once more.

“Would you like to get off?” he asked as sweetly as possible.

Dave didn’t answer; he was too busy fisting himself.  Sebastian quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist, halting his movement.  Dave looked up at him then, meeting his eyes, and Sebastian was pleased to read a bizarre mixture of self-loathing and arousal, disgust and hope and desperation there.

Sebastian’s smile widened.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Dave looked startled for only a moment before he dropped, as if he hadn’t meant to actually do it.  Sebastian wasted no time undoing his zipper and pulling free his cock, stroking it proudly in front of Dave’s face as he stared.

“Well,” he told the other man with a hint of impatience and condescendence.  “Don’t play dumb; you know what to do.”

Dave’s face flashed for a moment with what appeared be disgust, but he swallowed it down as he brought one hand forward to palm himself.  Sebastian noticed and kicked it away.  “If you do well, I’ll take care of you after.”  He paused.  “I’m not a patient man, Karofsky.”

To his relief, Dave was inching forward on his knees.  He tentatively traced Sebastian with his fingers before moving his face closer, carefully licking up the side. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes and tutted as this continued for a while, until it became too much.  Grabbing the others man’s head, he forced Dave’s mouth over the tip of his cock, restraining himself from shoving fully down his throat.  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he murmured by way of explanation.

Dave wasn’t completely stupid, apparently, and Sebastian relaxed his grip on his head as he began to suck.  “That’s better,” he offered, his fingers brushing through Dave’s hair before he realized what he was doing and let his hands fall away completely.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Sebastian began to gently thrust, pulling back a little when Dave sputtered the first time and then speeding up as he seemed to adjust to it.  This was so far from the best head he’d ever gotten, but a blowjob was a blowjob, and as usual, the coercion involved somehow made it hotter.

Dave’s technique was improving with time; he was sucking steadily now, licking around the head and taking Sebastian’s thrusts with ease.  Giving in to the growing need inside him, Sebastian pushed up harder, faster.  Dave seemed to be having some difficulty with this but Sebastian ignored it this time—better to just get it over with.

“God, that’s hot,” he said brokenly, watching Dave choke on his cock.  He grabbed onto the other man’s head, pulling at his hair harshly as he came down his throat, biting back the moan that would reveal too much of the pleasure he was feeling. 

He panted quietly against the wall for a few moments as he came down, until he noticed Dave struggling to get away and pushed the other man off of him, zipping up his pants as Dave fell backwards and caught himself against the ground, coughing.  He looked positively wrecked.

Sebastian painted his smirk back on as he straightened his clothes.

Dave recovered quickly and was regarding him expectantly.  “You said after you would…”

Sebastian scoffed.  “I said if you were good, and certainly you’re aware that that was terrible.”

Dave gaped at him like a fish for a moment, which would have been amusing if it didn’t twist his features so unbecomingly, but his face was soon overtaken by anger.  “I don’t know what your game is…” he started, pulling himself up off of the floor and stumbling towards Sebastian.

“Woah!”  Sebastian said, quickly throwing his hands up as he did earlier.  “Lucky for you, I’m not the type to leave a man hanging.”

Stepping forward, he directed Dave to take the spot he himself had previously occupied against the wall, and once again reached into the man’s pants.  Dave slunk down a little as Sebastian worked him, panting into his shoulder.

“I heard you talking earlier, heard you say something about an Anderson.  Is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

“I…” Dave tried, clearly flustered.  “I can’t,” he managed to get out.

Sebastian slowed his hand to a crawl.  “That’s a shame, then, because it would be such a help,” he breathed into Dave’s ear.

Dave groaned, seeming to catch on to his predicament.  “What is it you want to know?”

Sebastian mouthed at his ear, pleased with himself.  “His name.  Where he’s at.  How he got there.”

“Fuck,” Dave said, breaking away a little from Sebastian to lean his head back against the wall.  “You _cannot_ repeat this.”

Sebastian smiled.  “My lips are sealed.”  As if in promise, his hand sped up once again.  “Tell me.”

Dave thrust up into his fist, looking like he was thinking far too hard.  “Blaine Anderson.  They have him at the home of the Head of Security.  I brought him in today, after finding him yesterday passed out just outside the barrier.  _Shit,_ faster!”

Obligingly, Sebastian sped up.  He could sense that the other man was getting close and struggled against the strange urge to watch his face.  Sex was just a means to an end, he reminded himself.  This was certainly no different.

Dave came over his hand with a loud, disturbing sound that fell somewhere between a groan and a wail, clutching at Sebastian’s shoulders as he did so.  As soon as his grip had slackened, Sebastian released him and turned away, busying himself with washing his hands at the sink.  When he turned back, Dave had yet to compose himself.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Sebastian said with a smirk, heading for the door.

“Wait,” Dave called to him, and when Sebastian paused to consider him, he noted the strained look on his face—as if stopping Sebastian pained him, but he couldn’t keep himself from it.  It was probably the truth.  “Can I have your name?  Please,” he added, an afterthought.

Giving in just a little to his nagging emotions, Sebastian offered him a bitter smile.  “It’s probably best if you don’t,” he said quietly, then walked out the door.

With the lives that they both led, revealing that they were soulmates would only be an unwelcome complication.


	5. Looking For Space

_Blaine was alive._

At first, Kurt was ecstatic.  Then reality hit, and he realized that alive or not, Blaine might not stay that way for long now that the government had captured him. 

While the Resistance had been ready and willing to go searching for Blaine, everybody seemed a little stand-offish at the idea of an actual rescue attempt.  After all: the home of the Head of Security was, well, _secure_.  Kurt was more than willing to overlook any potential danger, but the remainder of the group seemed more hesitant.

Oh well.  They would get him across the barrier, at least, and then he would figure out how to get Blaine back himself.  If it came down to it, Kurt was prepared to die trying.

Kurt didn’t stay that night at Mike and Tina’s home; instead he slept in the guest room at Carole and Finn (and his dad’s?) house.  Finn’s soulmate, Rachel, also lived there with them, and she and Kurt hit it off right from the start.  At least, that’s what Rachel seemed to think.  Kurt personally found her boisterous, self-centered enthusiasm to be a bit too much.  On the other hand, they did share plenty of interests—musicals, performing, and attractive men to name a few.  Rachel also went on and on about her two gay dads, and while her assumption that Kurt would automatically be interested was annoying, he had to admit to himself that it might be useful to chat with them at some point.  He had, after all, never known another gay couple before.

The next morning’s breakfast was full of awkward silences, if one dismissed Carole’s occasional cheerful attempts at conversation and Rachel’s blathering on about a callback she’d just gotten for “the perfect role”.  Kurt could sense,however, that even Rachel was tense and on edge.  He and Finn were leaving at 11 am, due to meet the rest of their group at the barrier.

After their meal, Finn helped Kurt pack, having been on similar missions before.  Kurt took his advice carefully, then slipped in a few of his own signature pieces while the taller man wasn’t looking.  Fashion emergencies were, after all, unpredictable.  And if they got Blaine out— _when_ they got Blaine out, Kurt corrected himself—he wanted to look his best.

Burt drove them all down to the barrier crammed together in Carole’s car, which had clearly not been designed for a family of five.  When they got there, Kurt immediately spotted Mike and Tina huddled together off to one side, and Sugar sweetly kissing a blushing man with mussed brown hair.  The mysterious Sam, it seemed, had yet to arrive.

His stomach twisting inside, he turned reluctantly to face his father.  “Dad…”

“Kurt,” Burt sighed and pulled him into his embrace with shaky arms.  “I should come with you,” he said.  “I should come with you and… I dunno, but this isn’t fair!  This shouldn’t be happening to you.  I need to do something.  I could…”

“Dad!”  Kurt cut him off, pulling back until they were face to face, startled to see that there were tears threatening to blink past his father’s eyes.  “I need you to stay here, with Carole.  I need you to be here, in case something… in case something happens,” he tried hard to keep his voice steady.

Burt squeezed his arms, looking like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“We’ll ready the guest room while you’re gone,” Carole spoke up, brushing her own tears away from her face after hugging Finn, who immediately latched on to Rachel.  Or rather, she latched on to him.  “You and Blaine can stay with us, when you get back.”

Kurt considered her and nodded.  “At least until we get on our feet,” he asserted quietly.  “But if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to…”

“We’ll get the furniture, and you can decorate it yourself when you get back.”

Kurt looked back to his father, pleased to see that he appeared more composed, happy that Burt seemed to read his mind.  He smiled.

“Thank you, that sounds perfect.”  He found himself reaching towards Burt without really meaning to, grasping at his hand.  “Dad, I…”

“I know.”  His father pulled him into another hug, which Kurt gratefully sank into.  “I love you too,” he whispered into Kurt’s ear.

When they broke apart Kurt shared an awkward hug with Carole, which he found oddly comforting for reasons he wasn’t quite ready to examine.  Then Rachel flung herself at him dramatically, taking Kurt by surprise.  He patted her back a little and waited for her to detach, looking over her shoulder at Finn, who merely shrugged apologetically.

And then, too soon, they were driving away.

Mike and Sugar were alone when Kurt and Finn turned to find them, and Mike was working himself into a bit of a tizzy.

“I can’t believe Sam’s still not here!  They know that crossing is time-sensitive, but those people just don’t…” he groaned, trailing off.  “Fifteen minutes.  We’ve only got fifteen minutes!”

But even as he said it, an unusual looking car was pulling up.  If it weren’t for the wheels and the gentle hum of the engine, Kurt would be tempted to call it a carriage.  Puzzled, he watched with the others as the car stopped and a stocky man got out of the driver’s seat, making his way around to open the passenger’s door.

To Kurt’s shock, the person practically hopping out of the passenger’s side of the car was… one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen.

It wasn’t her features, exactly, though those were nice enough on their own.  She was tall and willowy, pale and freckled, face soft and eyes a clear, perfect blue.  No, he thought to himself.  It was her… energy.  Something about her buzzed and shimmered and shone in a way that was pure beauty, pure happiness that Kurt could _feel_ somehow without understanding it.

He wanted to say something as she approached, but when he attempted to gather his thoughts all that came out was… “I thought that Sam was a boy?”

“He is,” Mike said sharply, jolting Kurt enough to turn and look at him.  He did _not_ look pleased.  “This is Brittany, his sister.”

Sugar was squealing and running towards the other girl, and Finn was considering him with sympathy.  “You get used to it,” he offered, squeezing Kurt’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand,” Kurt said a little helplessly.

Mike sighed, finally tearing his eyes away from the strange girl to meet Kurt’s own.  “Brittany, like Sam, is a child of the Source.  The Source is all around us, of course, and it’s part of everybody to some extent, but in children of the Source it’s… organic, I guess you could say.  They can channel it and use it, like a kind of magic.  That’s why Sam was going with us… their powers offer us protection and will allow us to travel unseen.”

“Brittany can’t do that?”

“She can,” Mike said reluctantly.  “It’s just… well, all children of the Source are a little different, but Brittany is more different than the rest.  It’s not a bad thing.  We all love her; it’s just…”

“You’ll understand once you get to talking with her,” Finn finished for him.

The girls were approaching them, so Kurt smiled, fully intending to introduce himself to Brittany.  But she was so close now that he froze, overtaken by all the things he was feeling.  He hoped this didn’t last very long, or he would be next to useless on this trip.

His staring was cut short, however, when Brittany rushed at him, throwing her arms around his neck and just as quickly pulling back to do the same to Finn and then Mike.  She held their hands, beaming happily and considering each of them in turn.  “Is this the dolphin Sam told me about?” she asked eagerly, reminding him of nothing so much as a child who’d been promised a special treat.

“Yes, Brittany,” Mike told her patiently, a small, indulgent smile gracing his face.

Brittany squealed and hugged him again.  “You’re Kurt then; I knew it!  I’ve met a few dolphins, but you’re special.  I think maybe you’re a unicorn too, just like me!”

“Uhhh… thanks,” Kurt offered, a little taken aback. 

She seemed to study him for a minute, and slowly her smile faded.  “I’m sorry about the other dolphin.  Blaine, right?  Your soulmate?  I really hope you find him.”  She spoke with great sincerity, tears pooling in her eyes, and suddenly Kurt was feeling the absence of Blaine all over again and fighting back his own tears.

He blinked at her, truly touched by her concern, and tried to smile.  “Thank you, Brittany.  I can already sense that we’re going to be friends.”

Brittany beamed again.  “Of course we are, silly!”

“Right,” Mike said, and Kurt suddenly remembered that the others were present, looking up to find that Finn and Mike were watching them with expressions that indicated some discomfort, while Sugar’s eyes glittered with excitement.  “We really need to leave; there’s only five minutes left in our window.  We can hear about why Brittany is here instead of Sam after we’ve gotten to the other side.”

He was hurrying towards the barrier the moment he finished speaking, not bothering to wait for a response, and the girls fell into step after him.

Kurt took a nervous breath, a small, forced step, Finn hanging back and considering him with awkward concern.

“Hey, are you going to be alright with this?  I just thought after what happened the last time…”

Kurt sighed.  “I guess I have to be, right?  But thanks.”

“Yeah, dude.  We are brothers now.  And I promise it’s not so bad, going in this direction.”

*******

Finn was right.  Crossing the barrier this way merely disoriented Kurt for a few minutes, an effect he seemed to share with the others.  Recovering quickly, they pressed on.

They were walking to the safehouse, which was a good day’s journey by foot.  Mike—clearly the designated leader of their group—explained on the way that this way was safer, because Brittany’s magic could keep them hidden from sight but could not hide man-made objects, such as a vehicle.

While trudging through the forest was certainly not Kurt’s preferred activity (especially when it became necessary to use the restroom—or lack thereof,) he reminded himself that it was bringing him closer to Blaine.  At least it better be, because he could think of no one else he’d willingly do this for.

They chatted most of the way, Kurt learning several interesting things about the others.  Brittany explained to them that her grandmother, who had raised her and her twin brother Sam, would not permit him to abandon his training to become Master of the Source in order to join them on their mission.  It was only reluctantly that she agreed to send Brittany in his stead, rightfully (in Kurt’s opinion) concerned about the girl involving herself in a potentially dangerous mission.

Brittany was, of course, trained to use her abilities effectively and, being a daughter of the Source, she was much harder to harm than the average person.  But Kurt was slowly starting to understand what a special and unique person Brittany was, even as the effects of being in her presence were finally, blessedly beginning to fade.  He could sympathize with the woman’s hesitance.

Mike explained to Kurt how the Resistance had formed, and he was surprised to learn that Blaine was one of its earliest—and founding—members.

“He never said as much to me,” Kurt commented quietly.  For some reason the omission hurt.

Mike nodded.  “Blaine’s very modest, and besides, it was actually Cooper’s idea.  Blaine inspired it, of course, but Cooper was hesitant to let his little brother actually take part, especially when he decided to drop out of college and join in on the actual missions.  But Blaine was stubborn; you know how he gets.”

Kurt nodded, but he really didn’t know.  Blaine had never been stubborn with him personally, at least not yet.  “So you dropped out and joined when Blaine did?”

“That’s right.”

Kurt cocked his head to consider him.  “Why?”

Mike took a moment to ponder the question.  “Blaine was my best friend, and I guess a part of it was being young and eager to jump in to something like that… but really, it’s about the cause.  I really believe in what we’re fighting for.  The current laws in The New World aren’t just hurting homosexuals, they hurt no-names, too, and anyone else who rebels against the mating laws or the system.  I’ve known too many people seeking refuge from that place.  No one in my family, but I’m one of the few.”

“I joined because of my mom,” Finn spoke up, startling Kurt a little.  “You know she was a no-name, before your dad.  My _father_ —“ he spit out the word “—knocked her up and abandoned her when he met his soulmate two months later.  She found a way to The Olde World, but it wasn’t easy.  If she had stayed here…”

“She would have been arrested,” Kurt finished for him, thinking of Quinn.  “I’m sorry, Finn.”

The taller man shrugged.  “It’s all good now, dude.  We’ve had a nice life over there, and besides, Rachel turned out to be there as well.  And now… well, your dad’s made her happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

“Good,” Kurt said sincerely.  “I’m glad they found each other.”

The new brothers shared a smile.

“What’s your story, Sugar?” Kurt ventured to ask.

“You mean why I’m in the Resistance?” the perky girl returned, but didn’t wait for clarification.  “It’s to become famous, silly!”

“But… isn’t that dangerous?” 

Sugar nodded vigorously.  “My daddy tried to talk me out of it, but I know he’ll be proud when we win and everybody knows it.  He hates The New World too, you know.  He’s really, really rich and they didn’t want to let him keep all of his money.  So we left.”  She shrugged, as if all of this was no big deal.

Kurt tried to smile at her, but thought it probably came out as more of a grimace.  “Any reason is good enough for a good cause, I suppose.”  He wasn’t quite convinced of it himself.

Sugar seemed to agree, however.  “That’s what Rory said—my soulmate.  He’s Irish!”  She said the last part proudly, with a little giggle.

_Irish, Irish…_ Kurt knew he had heard the word before, but it took a while for it to click.  Ireland was a country that existed long ago, one of those eradicated with the introduction of the Source.  Of course, many people still held on to the old terminology of their heritage.  He thought it was part of The Far World, a place he had learned about but never been to.

“How did you manage to find him there?” Kurt couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity piqued.  Not only was it a place where few here traveled, but it was almost unheard of for soulmates to be born that far apart.

“Daddy sent some people,” Sugar said.  “He wasn’t going to let me be _alone_.”

The conversation halted there, and the group traveled in silence for a while, stopping every so often to rest or take care of necessities.  It was during a dinner break that Kurt finally worked up the courage to question Brittany, who seemed to be the only one of his companions who hadn’t mentioned a mate.

“Brittany,” he snagged the girl’s attention away from her bag of gummy snacks, which she was playing with as if they were dolls.  “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

His face fell when hers did, and he wished he could take the question back.

“No,” Brittany said sadly.  “I don’t think she’s in The Olde World, or she’d have found me by now.”

It took a moment for Kurt to process the “she” in her words and realize what it meant.  “Oh, Brittany,” was all he could say.  “I’m sure that…”

“Don’t,” she cut him off.  “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t need false hope.  I know what it means.”

Kurt studied her for a minute, feeling her sadness as his own, before finally nodding.  “Okay.  I’m sorry, Brittany.  I shouldn’t have asked.”

She smiled at him, and though it was still a little sad it seemed genuine enough.  “It’s okay, dolphin.  You’re allowed to ask.”

She turned back to her gummies and Kurt to his energy bar, somehow feeling more determined now than ever.

*******

The safehouse was located only two miles outside of the nearest town, but it was well hidden, surrounded by trees and lacking any notable indication that there was a clearing there at all.  Still, it was large and attractive—a far cry from the shabby hideaway Kurt had been picturing.

Even something shabby would have been a welcome respite from their travels, but Kurt would take the stability of brick any day.

They reached their destination several long hours after night had fallen,  Mike taking the initiative to climb the steps to the porch and knock on the door, the others dragging wearily behind.  They huddled together and waited, and soon the door was thrown open.  The young woman greeting them was someone Kurt had never expected to see again.

She scanned their group before her eyes landed on Kurt, and they widened almost comically in surprise.  “Boo?  Is that really you?”

Kurt could feel the grin stretching over his face as he nodded at his former best friend, eagerly launching himself into her arms.  “It’s been far too long, Mercedes.”


	6. Come As You Are

Despite her declaration, Santana didn’t come to see Blaine that night, nor the next day, nor the day after that.  A doctor was sent to tend to him as promised (his leg was fractured, not broken, and he was told it would heal up nicely), but to Blaine’s frustration the man refused to speak to him regarding anything but his injury.  His rooms were far grander than he had anticipated, and the meals he was sent at clockable intervals were elaborate to say the least.  The finery should have made him happy after all that he’d endured over the past few days, but instead it just made him confused… and suspicious.  With no crutches and a guard ever present outside of his door, Blaine had no practical way to leave.  What might appear a palace soon grew as dismal as the prison he had only too recently left behind.

Blaine wanted information, but he had no way to get it.  He had seen Sandy again on a few occasions, but the guy creeped him out too much for Blaine to give him any excuse to linger.  Terri brought him every meal, but the previously gossipy woman was infuriatingly tight-lipped any time he questioned his predicament or demanded to speak to Santana.  Perhaps she didn’t know much herself.

By day four he was fed up.  While he was grateful to be alive, Blaine was a man of action.  No act of charity—if that’s even what this was—could bring him to feel indebted enough to become a sitting duck, especially not with Kurt waiting for him and probably worrying himself to death over where he was.  Blaine was going to get his answers one way or another, and then he’d be getting back to Kurt.

With that intent in mind, he made himself as presentable as possible and limped out the doorway, trying his best to ignore the pain shooting through his leg.  In his arms he carried his bedside lamp—unfortunately the heaviest stand-in for a weapon he could find—fully intending to knock the guard out if necessary or, more preferably, merely threaten the man.

But the guard was asleep.  Blaine could hardly believe his luck! 

It took him some time, but eventually he worked his way back to the dining room he remembered passing when he had first been taken to his rooms.  He only hoped that Santana would be there this morning.  For all he knew, she could be away on business or taking breakfast in bed.

His fears were for naught, though, because there she was, seemingly fixated on her plate of eggs and bowl of cereal while Sandy lurked in the corner, watching her eat.  A shudder ran through Blaine as the older man looked up and caught his eye, but before he could say anything Blaine straightened up the best he could and went marching in.

He tried to march, anyway.  It was the effort that counted.

Santana had already noticed him by the time he was next to her at the table, but he slammed his fists down beside her plate all the same—partly for dramatic effect, and partly because looming next to her had the advantageous side effect of allowing him to rest most of his weight against the sturdy wood.

“Santana,” he said matter-of-factly.  “I want some answers.”

Santana seemed almost bored as she briefly considered him before turning her gaze back to her breakfast.  “Very presumptuous of you, isn’t it, storming in here and disrupting _my_ breakfast when I’ve been kind enough to spare your life and put you up.  You’re either exceedingly brave or exceedingly stupid, but my money’s on both.”

He studied her for a moment, trying to decide where to go with this next.  Perhaps he should have given their inevitable confrontation a little more thought.

“Maybe I’m just extremely determined,” he offered at last, mentally chastising himself when he sounded softer and less sure than intended.

She looked back over at him, this time looking him up and down as though pondering something.  Finally, she rolled her eyes and set about buttering a slice of toast.  “Sit down, hobbit.  At your height you need every inch of those legs.”

Blaine was taken aback—her tone was almost kind, a little teasing.  Not at all what he had come to expect from this woman.  He sat, choosing a chair a few down from where she was seated, and waited… but Santana didn’t offer to speak again.

“Why did you decide not to kill me?” he finally ventured.  “I certainly wasn’t cooperative, and I’m everything you’re against.  I don’t understand.”

For a long moment she didn’t answer, but then…

“Sandy, leave us,” she ordered.

Blaine watched in amazement as the other man bowed to her—actually _bowed_ —before quietly leaving the room.

When he was gone, Santana turned back to Blaine with an expression on her face that was difficult to decipher.

“I’m not a nice person, Blaine,” she began, shocking him with the use of his first name.  “And I’m certainly not a good one.  But there are things that are very important to me, and I believe in integrity.  I believe in loyalty.  I haven’t had many true friends in my life, but those that I have had I’d do anything for.  And that includes putting my personal beliefs aside when my priorities demand it.”

Blaine shook his head.  “You’re still not making any sense.”

“I saw the name on your hand; you must have realized that.  Kurt Hummel.  He’s your soulmate, and back in high school he was one of my closest friends.  I would never do anything to hurt him.”

Blaine didn’t even try to hide the shock that was surely spelled out on his face, leaking into his voice.  “Even now that you know that he’s...”

“What, homosexual?  I didn’t know before, but I had guessed.”

“But you’ve dedicated your entire life to the law and to support the regulations against homosexuality! You’re the poster child for ‘show no mercy!’  Don’t even pretend you weren’t about to let them kill me a few days ago, that you didn’t enjoy it, that parts of you don’t _hate_ me and everything that I am!”

She smiled at him, but Blaine wasn’t sure he liked it.  “I’m not very good at pretending anything.”

“I don’t understand,” he said again, hating the weakness in his voice.

“You don’t have to,” Santana countered, drinking down the last of her juice.  “I don’t need you to, and I also don’t need to explain myself to you.  It should be enough that you’re alive.”

Blaine set his jaw.  “Does this mean you’re going to let me go?  Send me back to Kurt?”

Santana laughed.  “I said that I’m loyal, not stupid.  That would be dangerous for both of us, and you know it.”

“Then what are you going to do with me?  I’m not accustomed to lazing around uselessly, and I don’t prefer it!”

She smirked at him, standing up and pushing in her chair.  “Annoying, isn’t it?  I’m rather enjoying that. “

Without another word, she spun and left the room, leaving Blaine to sit in stunned silence and contemplate his next move.

*******

Blaine spent some time stubbornly hobbling around the castle (he had taken to calling it that in his head, unable to think of the elaborate building as a house), lost in thought.  To his surprise, the few people he came across didn't stop to question him or even acknowledge his presence.  
  
When the pain became too much to bear, he made his way reluctantly back to his rooms.  What he found when he reached them shocked him even more.  His guard was nowhere in sight, but there was a sturdy-looking pair of crutches leaning up against the wall in his stead that were just the right height.  Entering the room, Blaine found a fresh set of clothing laid out on the bed along with a note that simply read: _because you stink_.  
  
Clearly, he wouldn’t be figuring Santana out anytime soon… but that didn't mean he had any intention of giving up.  
  
He took the remainder of his meals for the day in his room, begrudgingly resting his leg after the strain he had so stupidly placed on it that morning.  But the next day, he dressed in his new clothes and made his way once again to the dining room, slowly growing accustomed to using his crutches.  He was never more grateful for Puck’s insistence that he continue to lift even in prison; Blaine owed his friend now for his proficient upper body strength.  
  
Kurt had appreciated that too, he reminded himself with a smug grin.  Then it hit him once again that Kurt was terribly far away right now, and he would likely remain as such for the foreseeable future.  
  
The dining room was empty.  Blaine waited for three hours before finally giving up, returning to his rooms to find that his own breakfast had been delivered and had long since grown cold.  
  
Fortunately, the following morning brought him better luck.  
  
"Are you planning to make a habit of disturbing my morning meal?  I've never been one to laze about with breakfast in bed, but suddenly the idea has growing merit."

“I’ll show up here every day if I have to,” Blaine told Santana firmly.  “Until you give me my answers or agree to send me home.”

He expected another witty comeback, but she surprised him again.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair he had occupied two days before.  “Sandy, please have Mr. Anderson’s breakfast sent here.  He will be dining with me every morning from now on.”

Blaine cocked an eyebrow at her.  “Does that mean…”

“It means, hobbit, that even your company is better than none at all.  Your pathetic ploys to get what you want are amusing, and I’m always up for a challenge.”

He gaped at her until his breakfast arrived, almost knocking over his orange juice because he hadn’t noticed its appearance on the table.

“Eat,” Santana ordered.  “I’ll ask the questions.”

Obediently he sawed off a hunk of sausage and brought it to his mouth, running through a mental list of all the things he couldn’t tell her but expected her to ask.

“First off,” she started, “I want to hear how Hummel’s doing.  We haven’t spoken since early college, I think.”

Blaine gulped as he swallowed, taken aback by her question.  “He’s doing well enough,” he answered cautiously.  “I think he enjoyed the job he had at the prison, but it wasn’t really what he wanted.”

Santana nodded.  “Yeah, I don’t think I ever saw him truly happy.  It was always like he was afraid to really be himself, you know?  He always held his head up high and laughed everything off in high school, but those of us that knew him… well, we could see how much he was hurting.”

Blaine found himself agreeing with her insight.  “He’s in The Olde World now,” he mused almost wistfully.  “I was looking forward to watching him discover himself there.  I hope… I mean, I think I made him happy, but there’s still so much out there for him.”

“That’s probably the best place for him to be,” Santana offered, sounding sincere and a little pensive.  “I’m glad he could get away.”

“What about you?” Blaine asked carefully, placing his fork on the table and giving her his full attention.  “Don’t you ever wish you could get out of here?  Don’t you wish you’d gotten away, before…”

He was fully prepared for another cutting retort, but Santana surprised him with a small, sad smile.  “What about me?  I have everything I could want here; I’m achieving everything I’ve worked for.  Power is the ultimate victory, Anderson.”

Blaine knew he shouldn’t risk it, but… “What about love, Santana?  You don’t have your soulm—”

Her eyes went cold in an instant.  “I don’t need a soulmate.  I feel very little desire to be with anyone now, and it’s for the best.  Caring about people sucks, and I’m much better off without it.  I’m much stronger.”

“You seem to care about Kurt,” Blaine ventured, unfazed by her response.

“Not nearly enough to throw my life away for him, as you seem so eager to do.  Don’t tell me you didn’t know when you ran how risky it was, especially for you!  You can’t honestly still believe that you made the right choice.”

“There was no other choice to make, Santana.  It was worth it to be with him, to take him someplace where he can truly be himself.”

“It was foolishness that landed you here, and it almost got you killed,” she shot back.  “And I’m sure he’s worse off now than ever, now that you’re gone and he has no clue what happened.”

“He’s safe and he’s free,” Blaine argued, a slight waver in his voice betraying him.

“You really believe that?” Santana asked, snorting when he nodded.  “Then you don’t know him nearly as well as you think you do, loverboy.  There’s no way Hummel’s going to sit around playing house over there while you’re missing.  He’s probably finding a way back to The New World as we speak.”

Blaine shook his head.  He’d never considered that possibility before, and he really didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” Santana said, more gently than he thought her capable of.  “I’ve heard rumors of your little group planning a coup, but nothing about Kurt.  We can’t know for sure.”

Blaine pushed away from the table and grabbed his crutches, pulling himself up carefully.  “I don’t think I’m feeling very hungry anymore,” he told her, heading for the door.  “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Blaine,” she called out after him.  He would have ignored it except she used his first name, and so he paused.  “I’ll see you here tomorrow morning.”

Choosing to overlook that it wasn’t a request, Blaine nodded.  “See you in the morning,” he echoed.

When he got back to his room, Blaine collapsed on his bed, frustrated and overwhelmed by the reality of his predicament.  For the first time since his youth, he allowed himself to cry.

*******

True to his word, Blaine showed up for breakfast the next morning and each morning after that.  Given his current circumstances, he couldn’t say that he _liked_ Santana, per se, and he was having an even harder time understanding her supposed friendship with Kurt, but something about her made him almost look forward to their morning conversations.  It also never hurt to befriend the enemy.

They had a sort-of routine now.  Santana would begin every one of their breakfasts with an insult to his person followed promptly by a command to sit and eat.  Blaine would oblige her and spend the meal questioning her beliefs and life choices, which inevitably led to an argument.  Santana displayed no more insight into his world view than he had of hers, but to his surprise, she avoided asking him about the Resistance and any plans they might have made.  If their discussion didn’t grow so heated as to warrant Blaine storming out (which was becoming easier to effectively accomplish with his leg healing more each day), he would usually end the meal by attempting to persuade her to permit him to leave and return to Kurt.  Unsurprisingly, she always refused.

He was seriously considering running away, but he knew that would be stupid.  Besides, what if Kurt really was here, trying to find him?  As much as he would prefer to imagine Kurt safely pining for him from across the barrier, Santana’s concerns (somehow, he was convinced she truly did _care_ ) made sense.  If, Source forbid, they were true… then there was no way in hell he’d be leaving The New World without Kurt by his side.  Preferably tiedto his side, so they couldn’t be separated this time.

 To his dismay, he received all but confirmation of his fears almost three weeks after his arrival.

“Blaine,” Santana addressed him the moment he arrived that morning, her eyes lacking their usual spark of mischief, instead almost sad.  “Please, have a seat.”

Eyeing her curiously, he did so.  “Is something wrong?”

“I thought you might like to know that my guards have heard rumors that your Resistance group has been spotted in the country.  Now, I haven’t heard mention of Kurt’s name specifically—or anyone else’s, for that matter—but…”

“But,” he prompted, when she seemed hesitant to continue.

“But, according to my sources, it appears they’re here looking for you.”

Blaine swallowed, the implications of her news hitting him immediately.  “That’s…” he didn’t know how to continue.  “What are you doing about it?”

Santana sighed.  “I’m doing my job, of course.  But my men have orders that any suspected members are to be brought here immediately, as unharmed as possible.  That’s the best I can really give you right now.  I’ll let you know if I hear more.”

Taken aback by her kindness, Blaine tried to smile.  “Thank you.”  He paused, hesitating.  “I don’t suppose you’d let me leave and try to find him, would you?”

“You know me better than that,” she deadpanned, shooting him a dirty look.

Blaine almost laughed.  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“You, umm… you don’t have to eat here this morning if you don’t feel like it.  I’d understand.”

“That’s okay.  I’m not very hungry, but it might do me good to be around a friend.”

Blaine froze the moment the words left his mouth, but it was too late.  Recovering quickly, he looked over and met Santana’s eyes.  “Is that what we are?  Are we friends?”

She scoffed.  “In your dreams, Anderson,” she said easily, turning hastily to her breakfast.

The soft smile she sent him a few moments later when she thought he wasn’t looking told Blaine otherwise.


	7. Torn

Staying at the safehouse was nothing like Kurt had imagined.  There was a lot of talking, and there was a lot of sitting.  Occasionally, there was some arguing.

There wasn’t much of anything else.

So far, the highlight of the whole experience had been Mercedes.  Once practically joined at the hip, Kurt hadn’t seen the girl since his junior year of high school, when her family had abruptly moved away.  She’d called out of the blue one day to say goodbye and that they couldn’t stay in touch.  There had been no explanation.  Kurt had been heartbroken.

Apparently, her family had gone into hiding after her older brother, Michael, had—get this— _met his soulmate_ , whose name was Andrew.  Both boys had been rehabilitated, seemingly effectively, but something had still clicked for them when they met.  Andrew’s family was heavily involved in the government, so Mercedes’ parents had taken him in, and they all packed up and went away together.  Eventually, Michael and Andrew found their way to The Olde World, where they now lived happily.  Michael was a successful doctor and Andrew taught elementary school.  They had even adopted a son together; Mercedes had shown him the pictures.  It was a beautiful love story, and just the thought of sharing a future like that with Blaine brought tears to Kurt’s eyes.

Mercedes, her parents and her sister had eventually re-emerged in society, but when Andrew and Michael told them about the Resistance, they had wanted to help.  The whole family now pitched in to run the safehouse, though they still owned their own home to keep up the façade and so that Mercedes’ father, who was a dentist, could continue his practice.

Mercedes herself was still single and as tight-lipped as ever about the name of her soulmate.  Kurt had shared Blaine’s name with her long ago, trusting that because of her brother, she was a friend he could confide in.  At the time he had been desperate for someone to tell, and Mercedes had never let him down.  Seeing her again was like a dream come true.  The two immediately fell back into their old patterns of friendship, which at the moment meant that Kurt had someone to hold him while he cried—something he found himself doing all too frequently these days.  He knew that he was a strong person, but Blaine’s absence hurt more than anything he had experienced since the loss of his mother, even if he now had a small modicum of hope to cling to.

They also sang together, much to the amusement of some of the others.  A few of their friends reluctantly joined in, and they’d actually gleaned a fairly decent choir from the growing number of people staying at the house.

And so Kurt passed the endless days chatting with Mercedes and sometimes Brittany, whom he continued to feel a growing connection to, one that he was certain now had nothing to do with the Source.  There was something special about the girl—something gentler, something kinder.  He was also developing a friendship with his new step-brother and some of the other guys, including Blaine’s old Dalton classmates David and Wes, who had arrived with the second and fourth groups, respectively.

Kurt was enjoying his time, but he was also restless and eager to find Blaine.  That was, after all, why he’d come.  Of course he believed in the cause, but Blaine came first for him and always would.  It was disheartening that the only real Resistance-related business going on was the relentless arguing about strategy and the making of endless posters for the cause, which were almost always torn down as quickly as they could be posted.  Maybe it said too much about Kurt’s inner nerd, but his favorite slogan read: “Will the Source be with you?  Join the Resistance!”

The only other member of their growing group who seemed to be similarly uncomfortable with the lack of action was, surprisingly, Brittany.  Since they had arrived at the safehouse, she frequently seemed withdrawn and melancholy, a far cry from the exuberant girl he had met in The Olde World.  He asked Mike about this, mostly because Mike seemed to know things, but the other man didn’t seem to think it was an issue.

“It’s because the Source isn’t as strong here,” he explained dismissively.  “Children of the Source need it more than we do.”

Kurt wasn’t convinced that captured the full breadth of the problem, but the only one with a different answer was Brittany herself, and as usual, her articulation wasn’t exactly stellar.

“There’s something sad here,” she told him.  “Like, there’s something pulling me, something I’m meant to do, but I can’t because we’re stuck _here_.”

“Mike said it’s because the Source is weaker, and you miss it,” Kurt offered lamely.

Brittany shook her head.  “That’s sad too,” she said.  “But that’s not what feels so _wrong._ ”

“I don’t like it here either.  I mean, all of you are great!” he assured her quickly.  “But I just didn’t expect all this waiting.  I need to find Blaine!”

Brittany hugged him.  “I really want to help you find your dolphin, Kurt.”

Kurt sighed.  “Sometimes I can’t help but think: what’s stopping us?  There’s really nothing keeping us from walking out the door.  Well, maybe _sneaking_ out…” he amended.

“It’s not safe out there,” Brittany reminded him.

“And then I think of that.”  Kurt’s shoulders slumped.  “I don’t feel like I’d know what I was doing on my own, and I would never want to put you—or any of the others—in danger.”

“We’d be much safer together,” Brittany mused.  “I could hide us with my powers!”

Kurt shook his head.  “It’s too risky; I can’t ask you to do that.  And we don’t even know where we’re going.”

Brittany looked sad again.  “I really want to help.”

This time, Kurt pulled her into his arms.  “It’s okay Brit; we’ll find a way.  My idea was stupid, but eventually we’ll think of something that’s safe.”

*******

The following day, Sebastian showed up with the next Resistance group.

If Kurt had sensed that Sebastian was unpopular before, it was even more evident here.  A few people treated him with something resembling respectful fear, but the rest just sent him glares and did their best to ignore his constant, antagonizing banter.

Kurt mostly stayed out of his way, but that could only work for so long.

Sure enough, a couple days after he’d arrived, Sebastian slid into the open seat next to Kurt at dinner.  Kurt immediately looked for a quick escape, but there were few seats left and he could hardly abandon the meal he’d just started without it seeming suspiciously rude.

“So, you’re Anderson’s soulmate, huh?”

Kurt glanced quickly at Sebastian’s face and away again as he took a bite of his salad.  He took his time chewing, swallowing deliberately before finally answering: “I am.”

Sebastian laughed.  “Well, then, it really is a shame he didn’t tap this while he still had the chance!”

Kurt’s fork clattered to his plate.  “Excuse me?”

Sebastian shrugged and didn’t even try to look innocent.  “He was quite a tease about it, actually.  We’d start making out; I’d think I had the green light… and he would back out every time.  The sap.  Look what he has to show for it now!”

For the first time in his life, Kurt was seeing red.  “And what, pray tell, would that be?” he inquired, fighting to speak as evenly as possible.

“Kurt…” David’s placating voice came from across the table.  He had stopped eating to eye the two in concern.  “Come on; he’s not worth it.”

“Well,” Sebastian began, his tone matter-of-fact, “I mean, have you looked at yourself lately?  Have you ever heard the term ‘gay face’?  It exists for a reason, honey.”

Kurt gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.  “Whatever my face looks like, _Smythe_ , at least it doesn’t remind anyone of small, repulsive rodents.  I’m certain if Blaine turned you down, it was only to spare you from the projectile vomit he feared emitting if forced to endure another moment in your presence.”

Sebastian laughed again, and Kurt gave up on the table, instead allowing his hands to curl into fists, trying to focus on the sharp pain of his own nails digging into flesh.

“Kurt!” a voice came from behind them, and both men spun around to find Finn standing there, awkwardly looming over their seats.  “Is there a problem here?’’  He frowned down at Sebastian.

“No, no, Kurtsie here was just sharing some of his best fashion tips!  Regrettably, I prefer to stick to _men’s_ clothing, but…”

Finn stepped closer.  “Kurt’s a better man than me, so he probably won’t hit you.  But I’m pretty bad about personal boundaries, and I can think of several others here who would be quite happy for an excuse.  You want to try that?”

“I’m sorry.”  Sebastian grinned, looking back and forth between Kurt and Finn.  “I just remembered something important I need to discuss with Wes.  I’m sure you’ll excuse me while I find him…”  He stood gracefully, smoothing down his shirt before taking his tray and somehow shuffling through the small space Finn had allowed without bumping him at all.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Finn sank into his empty seat.  “I’m sorry, man; Smythe’s always been a douche.”

Kurt sucked in a breath and shook his head as if to clear it before relaxing his fists, taking up his fork and carefully twirling a bite of spaghetti.  “No, it’s okay.  Thank you.  I’ve never suffered fools gladly, but… lately, this entire place has me on edge.  Blaine’s out there in custody while I sit and twiddle my thumbs and play the waiting game like an obedient little schoolboy…”

“Yeah, I get it, dude.  I totally would have done something stupid by now if it was Rachel stuck there.  Especially with Lopez’s reputation.”

“Lopez?”

“Yeah, the Head of Security?  She’s known for being tough, but hey, I wouldn’t sweat it—Smythe already said he’s being held alive, so there must be a reason.”

Kurt could hardly believe it, could hardly force the question out.  “You don’t happen to know her first name, do you?”

Finn actually smiled a little.  “You know, I don’t usually remember stuff like that but it’s kind of funny… I think it’s like Satan or something?  I’m surprised you don’t know.”

 _Santana Lopez._ “How ironic,” Kurt said dryly, more to himself.  After a moment he looked up and met Finn’s eyes.  “I don’t really follow politics much anymore.”  And how stupid was that, because Kurt might have known.

He should have known.

“Say, Finn, you don’t happen to know where the Head of Security is located, do you?”  Kurt kept his voice down, glancing nervously across the table, but David appeared to be happily engaged in conversation with the woman seated next to him.  Kurt couldn’t quite remember her name.

Finn’s brow furrowed.  “No, but I think we have like… maps or something.  I don’t know if the building itself is on there.  Why?”

It didn’t matter, Kurt thought.  It didn’t matter because he remembered what city it was in, and that was good enough.  He just needed to know where the hell he was, how far he was from where Blaine was being held.  A map was exactly what he needed.

Thank the Source he’d always possessed a bit of a knack for acting. 

He offered Finn a sad little smile.  “It’s just… I don’t know; it would be nice to have some idea exactly how close or far he is, you know?”

His new brother nodded sympathetically.  “Yeah, man, I get that.  I could try to find you one of those maps?”

“That would be so great, Finn,” Kurt nodded enthusiastically.  “It’s just… don’t tell anyone?  It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Finn actually mimed the zipping and locking of his lips, and Kurt almost laughed.  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you, this means a lot.”

“What’s a favor between bros?”

They shared another smile, and Kurt happily returned to eating.

*******

Kurt got his map only hours later, but it took him a few days to work past the guilt of doing what he knew must come next.  The Security building looked to be about a three day journey on foot, based on what they’d traveled on their way to the safehouse.  No way could he get through that alone, not when the powers-that-be knew his face.

He needed Brittany.  He _hated_ that he needed Brittany.

“Brit,” he said, approaching her as she was decorating a spare poster with smiley faces and rainbows.  She looked to be reasonably happy for once and was alone—a difficult thing to come by around here.   “I… I need a favor.  But you don’t have to say yes!”

Brittany giggled, turning to face him and holding up her poster.  “Isn’t it pretty?”

“That’s… a great improvement, actually,” he said sincerely.

She beamed at him and put the poster down, turning to give him her full attention.  “What’s up, Kurt?”

He swallowed hard.  “Did you… did you mean it, what you said about helping me find Blaine?”

Brittany looked confused.  “Of course I did silly.  I always mean what I say.”

“I got a map,” he told her.  “I think I could get us there.  I… I don’t know what we’d do, once we got there, but the Head of Security was one of my friends in high school.  I don’t think she’d hurt us if we were caught.  It would mean about three days of walking, and we couldn’t tell anyone…”

Kurt had been studying the floor as he rambled, too nervous to look her in the eye, so he startled when he was cut off with clapping and a sharp squeal.

“A secret adventure!” Brittany said excitedly, jumping to her feet.  “When can we leave?”

This was a stupid plan.  It was hardly a plan at all, Kurt knew that.  But taking in Brittany’s glowing face, he couldn’t help but smile.

*******

It was almost too easy, sneaking nonperishable food from the rather sizable pantry, stuffing spare clothing into backpacks, stealing flashlights and sleeping supplies and a compass and bug spray, etc. from the supply closet.  The hardest part was saying goodbye, because he couldn’t really say it.  He could hug Finn and Mercedes without it drawing too much attention, though the action had clearly taken Finn by surprise, his new brother patting at Kurt’s back in that endearingly awkward way he had.  But the others…

He hated that he was betraying their trust. 

A few days later, they were slipping from the house unseen in the dark, wee hours of the morning.  Brittany was even surprisingly good at keeping quiet.

The journey was miserable, but then Kurt had expected that.  It was also remarkably [dangerously] simple.  Brittany’s magic kept them out of sight effortlessly, and Kurt was good about covering their tracks. 

They chatted and laughed together where there was less risk of being overheard, swapping childhood stories.  Kurt found Brittany’s tales about growing up as a Daughter of the Source both lighthearted and fascinating: exactly the distraction he needed.  Kurt’s memories were less interesting, he knew, but Brittany was very good at pretending and embellishing the facts.

Sometimes Brittany grew strangely quiet, almost sad, as if she were disappearing inside her own mind.  When Kurt asked if she was okay, she would smile and nod as if she truly meant it, carrying on as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  Her companionship was truly a gift.  In spite of the blisters and the sore muscles and the nagging worry that never really left Kurt, the first two days passed quickly.  They were even on schedule.

They were stupid, unprepared, naïve, foolish.  It wasn’t even that they’d let down their guard.

It was the morning of the last day of their trip.  They were talking, giggling, almost sluggishly packing up camp.  They didn’t hear the guards coming, but the guards must have heard them.

It turned out Brittany’s magic was pretty useless when someone already knew you were there.

He should be running.  He should grab Brittany’s hand, and they should run. 

Kurt eyed their guns and thought: _you can’t outrun a bullet._

Kurt stood there, frozen in place, staring at them.  All he could think was _shit._


End file.
